


Little Blessings

by Dracoduceus



Series: Words With Benefits [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad date, Blind Date, CEO Hanzo, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-26 23:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: Hanzo regretted agreeing to a blind date with a friend of a friend of a friend.But the man that was called to "rescue" him? Well, given that this terrible date led them to meet this Jesse McCree, he supposes that he could be more charitable.





	Little Blessings

**Author's Note:**

> The title, as always, is from [IchigoWhiskey](https://twitter.com/ichigowhiskey). When I asked her if she had a suggestion for my September reward project, she said "I do actually, release Kenny unto the world. Kenny will remind everyone of their little blessings". 
> 
> This was also inspired by [a post about Hindr](https://twitter.com/ohtumblroh/status/1147569297729957890?s=21), that IchigoWhiskey sent to me. From there we went a bit overboard discussing the worst kind of date. Then it escalated.
> 
> In this verse, Hanzo is the CEO of Shimada Industries, a very well known maker of fashion prosthetics. Satya works with him as an engineer, while Amélie works in accounting. They regularly have wine nights with Sombra, Hanzo's assistant. 
> 
> McCree is a student, who in his spare time signs on to Hindr for laughs. 
> 
> IchigoWhiskey's [wonderful art](https://twitter.com/ichigowhiskey/status/1125973055040380928) is also from this verse.

Hanzo took another thoughtful bite of his salad. His date was a reedy little man with a reedy little voice and glasses that were far too large for his face so that they always slid down his narrow, bony nose.

Fortified with the mouthful that would keep him from interrupting his date’s diatribe about the mind control substances found in any type of animal product, he observed this strange creature and wondered if he wasn’t an alien in disguise, albeit a really terrible one. The man—Kenneth Hobs,  _ call me Kenneth please, not Ken _ —had dirty blonde hair that was an awkward length of simultaneously too long and too short, cut unevenly.

He probably distrusted anyone else to cut his hair or to get close to him. Poor Emily at the doors had been traumatized when he had fallen into an exaggerated—and terrible—karate stance with a wild cry that made everyone in the restaurant turn and look at them. He had excused his abhorrent behavior by explaining that he was on a hair-trigger, always on the lookout for danger which could exist in all forms.

Hanzo kept his face blank but it was a struggle. Many things about this man tested his iron control.

Especially when Kenneth had told him that he was a freegan, that he didn’t believe in processed foods, and that Hanzo had been lucky that Kenneth found him attractive—that was the only reason that he had agreed to such a terrible place like this restaurant. The food here was subpar, which was terrible considering the prices, and that the  _ next _ time that they went out, Kenneth would show him how to actually live his life, that he didn’t need to be a slave to The Man for the rest of his life.

(Hanzo was glad that he hadn’t yelled  _ sheeple! _ Even though it was clear that he really wanted to.)

At this point he was barely listening, more interested in the sear on the scallops in his salad, the delightful sweet-salty burst as he ate them; of the crispy bacon, the slight bitter of the greens that offset the sweetness of the scallops. It was one of his favorites, next to the salad that Kenneth had ordered.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to eat that salad as it was on the menu ever again—not without thinking of this terrible experience.

It was a good thing that he had decided on something light instead of something that might take longer. The faster he could leave and return to work, the better.

Lena was already giving Hanzo sympathetic looks as she passed and refilled their glasses. Immediately Kenneth stopped talking, eyeing her suspiciously as she reached out to refill his glass. He batted her hand away. “I would like my water from another pitcher,” he wheezed. “I don’t know what else has been poured into that. Is that from the tap?”

“A bottle please, Lena,” Hanzo said, deciding to cut off the conspiracy theories before he could begin again. “Thank you.”

Bobbing her head, Lena fled.

“You don’t know what kind of filth might be in that water,” Kenneth whined and shoved an enormous forkful of salad in his mouth, more than was mannerly.

Hanzo  _ definitely _ would need to ask Winston to change up the salad the next time he ordered it.

“The city water is littered with parasites,” Kenneth continued around his mouthful. “And that’s not even counting the drugs they’re pumping into it. Those water treatment plants are actually putting things  _ into _ the water, not taking them out. If they did any sort of filtering, then it would remove all of the chemicals they’re using to brainwash you.”

Not for the first time in the relatively short time of knowing this Kenneth, he wondered how he had managed to survive this long. Did he have a job? Or was he an “entrepreneur”? The image of lanky Kenneth with his lanky hair and too-large glasses behind a computer screen in an office was laughable.

Lena returned with a sealed bottle of water and left quickly. Hanzo wished that he could do the same. Back behind the service station, she mouthed, ‘ _ I’m so sorry’ _ at him and made a heart at him with the thumbs and fingers of both hands.

Cute.

He took another bite of his salad. Behind Kenneth, he could see the doors to the small restaurant open. The man that walked in had a head of messy brown hair and wore a flannel shirt half-tucked into his faded jeans. He was looking at his phone as he walked up to Emily, maybe checking to see if his party was already there.

Kenneth continued, still chewing his mouthful of food. Now he was talking about big corporations poisoning the American people, how vaccines caused autism, and how Shimada Industries was clearly brainwashing everyone.

“They are?” Hanzo asked, amused despite himself.

Kenneth’s face lit up and he leaned close. His too-large shirt drooped on his thin frame and fell into his salad; either he didn’t care or didn’t notice the large stain of pink from his raspberry vinaigrette. “It’s a new theory I’m working on,” he whispered too-loudly for it to be a secret. “But it’s sound.”

And here he had thought that the  _ beginning  _ of his date had been bizarre.

He had thought that hearing the  _ press _ ’s reactions to the company’s policies was bad, that they were clearly misinterpreting the mission statement for the direction of the company. Kenneth was…

There were no words for Kenneth.

He discussed tech that more belonged in a B-grade sci-fi movie than in real life. He talked about back-room dealing with Russia and Cuba (interestingly enough, not North Korea) and after a while Hanzo had the sinking feeling that Kenneth was taking his “research” from the movie Red Dawn more than anything else.

Even Wikipedia would have been better.

Kenneth shoved the last bit of his salad in his mouth and stopped mid-sentence. “Anything more is conjecture,” he whined. “And it would be over your head. You’re still too far under the influence of the city water supply, I can see it now. But when we meet again, I will open your eyes—starting with getting those chemicals out of you. Freeganism is the only logical source of food in this city—if it’s good enough for raccoons and rats, why is it not good enough for everyone else?”

Truly his leaps of logic and subject could not get any stranger. Hanzo was certain that Kenneth stopped talking about his theories because Lena brought a basket of bread to the table and fled.

Kenneth immediately reached for the basket. His face lit up and Hanzo frowned behind his next mouthful when he took the entire thing into his lap. “I haven’t had bread like this in  _ ages _ ,” he said in his reedy voice.

As Hanzo watched, poleaxed behind his carefully neutral expression, Kenneth proceeded to lick the bottom of every roll and return it to the basket with a sound of disgust.

“Too dangerous,” he said, putting the basket back in the middle of the table and licking the butter and spices off of the fingers of his other hand. “There are too many spices, most likely to hide the presence of mind-altering chemicals. You can tell them apart from any other flavor—it tastes like licking a penny.”

Hanzo wondered what food he had eaten that  _ anything _ tasted like licking a penny. He wondered how he knew what pennies even  _ tasted _ like.

Carefully scooping up the rest of his salad, Hanzo kept his expression even. He usually used the bread to mop up the rest of his dressing but now there was no chance—and he wouldn’t ask for more right now, because if he remained any longer in the company of this bizarre creature he might scream.

No matter. He was going out to dinner that night with the wine club—and what good gossip they would get out of this.

He would be teased  _ so much _ but then, that’s what he gets for agreeing to a blind date.

Ignoring that it was a friend of a friend of Amélie’s. He would have some… _ choice _ words for her.

“That was good,” Kenneth said, back to his obnoxious swagger, the same one he had walked in with. There was a fine line between looking confident and looking like an idiot and Kenneth was on the unfortunate side of that line. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at Hanzo with chunks of spinach still caught in his teeth. “Almost as good as the leftovers from the China Buffet.”

Who would even  _ say _ that?

Lena nodded at him when he met her eyes and began tapping at the POS system to create their check. It was time.

“You say that I cannot comprehend the remains of your theory regarding Shimada Industries,” he said mildly as he carefully wiped his mouth. “Why?”

Kenneth gave him a ragged smile and fiddled with his glasses. As soon as he took his hands away, it slid down his nose again. “Pretty thing like you wouldn’t understand,” Kenneth told him as if it were obvious. He fiddled with a lock of his lanky hair and then adjusted his glasses again. “Not much good for doing anything other than look pretty. But if you stick around with me long enough, I’m sure we can fix that. I’ve been told that I am a wonderful teacher.” Kenneth looked him up and down and gave a wide grin that on his narrow face looked entirely too lecherous. “You know, I almost turned down this meeting. I thought you’d be dull—the pretty ones always are—but you know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Hanzo hummed and took a sip of his wine. “Your theories are…fascinating.” By his tone Kenneth should have known that he meant that it wasn’t not  _ fascinating _ in a good way, but it didn’t seem like Kenneth had any kind of social understanding.

“They are, aren’t they?” he asked, puffing his thin chest out. The stain of dressing shone wetly in the light, unfortunately far too light a shade to be mistaken for blood. “You know, there is a precedent for the behavior of the big corporations. They only want to squeeze more money out of the sheeple by pretending to do good deeds. Take Shimada Industries, for example.”

_ What did he have against Shimada Industries? _ Hanzo wondered, somewhat amused despite himself. He kept his face carefully blank.

Kenneth took his silence as agreement. “You see it too, right? The whore that runs it is  _ obsessed  _ with charity events—galas, donation events, that sort of thing.”

Hanzo had heard “gala” said many different ways—“gay-la”, “gah-luh”, to name the most popular—but how Kenneth could get “gah-leh” was beyond him.

“But what do you think is in the food and water there?” Kenneth asked. “And how much food do you think is wasted, poisoning it with their insidious mind-control drugs?” he made a noise of disgust, his voice and face turning dark. “She gets the media eating out of the palm of her hand, poisons the mind of children and defiles our veterans with whatever foul gifts she so graciously gives them. Once you get the media on your side, it’s inevitable that everything else falls like dominoes before you.”

He leaned forward excitedly, his eyes wild and his face flushed. “You control the information, then—and that’s what Lady Shimada is doing. What I wouldn’t love to wring her neck—or beat her over the head with her own prosthetic feet. Let her see how  _ she _ likes being beat down, get that pretty silver hair of hers dirty with the grime that she thinks she’s so above.”

Then Kenneth did something that Hanzo didn’t expect him to do—he stopped talking.

Granted, it was to take a sip of his water but he did stop for a few blessed seconds while Hanzo processed his very alarming words.

“I don’t much like women,” Kenneth said as if that explained his behavior. He very carefully capped his water with a furtive glance around. “I’ve always had poor experience with them. But I can settle for men like you.”

Hanzo sighed as Lena walked over with the check. Behind her, he could see Emily speaking with the man in the foyer.

Fortunately, Kenneth saw her at the same time and as she approached, he said, “It was such a great date but it’s a shame that I forgot my wallet.” He paused for all of two seconds before continuing, “I don’t have one, anyway. You never know what’s in them, if there’s some kind of tracker. Make your own things, that’s what I say.”

Hanzo was fairly certain that he had not physically made the clothes that he wore, unless he had also decided to embroider the Hollister logo on the breast pocket.

“And I think you should get this round anyway,” Kenneth continued as Lena stopped to stare at him for the sheer gall. “Since the date went so well.”

That he could startle someone like Lena—who handled Hanzo’s various guests with a commendable professional aplomb that was one of many reasons why Hanzo always left her a very hefty tip—almost impressed Hanzo.

Almost.

“Next time I’m going to show you how much better it is as a freegan,” Kenneth continued, entirely oblivious. “I know all the best times and places. So, name your time and place and we can go.”

For a long moment, Hanzo and Lena both stared at him. Then Lena cleared her throat and offered the bill to Hanzo. “Here you go, Mr. Shimada,” she said, with slight emphasis on his surname in a way that she never did.

He hid a smile when Kenneth’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Thank you, Lena,” Hanzo told her gravely as he pulled out his credit card. “Since you’re here, I would like to make a reservation for the atrium garden. I will be having a business meeting with a few potential investors from England.”

Lena’s face lit up. “I’ll give Liv a call to set something up,” she said. “We’ll treat them right, you know we will!” then she bounced away.

“I take many of my business associates here,” Hanzo told Kenneth, watching in private glee as his face began to pale and his eyes widen with alarm. “They have a lovely room in the back and in the spring, they have planters with flowers. It makes a nice place to have tea.” He smiled, taking an irrational amount of glee in the look of horror dawning on his face. “Though I would like to clarify a few points with you.”

He ticked up a finger. “No, Shimada Industries does not specialize in quite that kind of technology. The most we reach for is neurotransmission and while it occasionally requires implants, they are far too primitive to be used as mind control. However, that is an interesting theory that I should perhaps speak to our R&D department about, and I thank you for the suggestion.”

As he ticked up a second finger, he saw the man in the lobby begin walking away from the hostess booth, his face like a thundercloud. For the moment he ignored him and turned to Kenneth. “I am not a whore, nor am I a woman. I do enjoy having my hair long—it is an indulgence that I quite enjoy.” His lips twisted. “How I choose to dress myself is none of your concern and how I conduct my business—in any way of those words—is not for you to make judgment of.”

“Hey!”

It was the man from the lobby and Hanzo turned to look at him with a stare that would freeze even the most belligerent shareholder in their tracks. He was impressed when the man didn’t waver.

“Hanzo,” the man continued and the way that he sneered Hanzo’s name shouldn’t be as hot as it was. “Not even two days since we broke up and already you’re on another date?”

Kenneth clung to that and popped to his feet. “I knew you were a whore,” he cried triumphantly.

In a motion almost too fast for Hanzo to track the man reached out with an arm—prosthetic, a big clunky thing that Satya would be insulted to lay eyes on, much less be in its presence—and gripped the front of Kenneth’s shirt.

Hanzo struggled to hide a helpless sound of arousal when the man  _ lifted Kenneth into the air _ and dragged him close. To be fair, Kenneth was a scrawny twig of a human being but it definitely made Hanzo more than a little bothered to see the ease at which this man was able to manhandle him.

It made him wonder what  _ else _ he could do.

Looking past him, he saw Lena and Emily watching expectantly. Seeing him look, Emily waved her phone at him. It was too far away for him to see much, but he could see the distinctive logo of Hindr.

He looked away from them all just long enough to write in his tip to Lena and Emily. He doubled what he had intended to give them.

The man had dragged Kenneth close so that the bulky knob of his prosthetic dug into Kenneth’s scrawny belly. From the way he wheezed, it was far more uncomfortable than it looked. “What did you call him?” the stranger demanded, his voice a dangerous rumble that really shouldn’t affect Hanzo the way it did.

Kenneth wheezed. He had more bravery (stupidity…it really was stupidity) than Hanzo gave him credit for because he said, “I called him a whore.”

“Please,” Hanzo scoffed, trying to play the affronted ex that clearly the stranger was going for. “I hardly need you to be my knight in shining armor.”

The man twisted to look at Hanzo, still holding Kenneth off the ground. “Oh?” he demanded, his voice sharp but his eyes dark with something else that made Hanzo’s mouth dry. Kenneth was dropped unceremoniously.

Kenneth, the absolute idiot, got over his fright quickly, dropping back into that terrible karate stance from before. It looked like the slightest breeze would knock him over. “Hey,” he said in a shrill voice that gave away his fear. “Back away, he and I are together.”

He took two shuffling, hesitant hops forward and jabbed the bottom of his fist in the world’s most awkward hit to the man’s shoulder.

“I think not,” Hanzo told Kenneth as the man turned back to him, looking ready to laugh.

The stranger turned back to Hanzo, his light brown eyes dancing with infectious mirth. Hanzo struggled to keep from smiling back. “Look at him,” the man said and then jabbed a thumb at his thick chest, that was straining the buttons of his button-down shirt. “And look at me.” He spread his arms.

“I broke up with you for a reason,” Hanzo informed him, watching the stranger’s face.

His grin was knowing, his eyes lighting up with understanding. The man spread his arms. “I can’t see why. I’m a catch and I made you happy, didn’t I?” Suddenly he was very close to Hanzo. His hands were hot on Hanzo’s hips, his side; an enormous thigh pressed between Hanzo’s legs.

Hanzo could almost hear the words that the man didn’t say:  _ I bet I can make you happy, stranger _ .

He should be annoyed despite the ruse. The man was already pawing at him as if he owned him, was pressed close from knee to hips. He was looking at him like he was expecting Hanzo to swoon into his arms; he was looking at him as an actor might look at another actor who had forgotten their lines—expectant, waiting for him to remember what to say and do.

“Did you?” Hanzo asked just to be contrary. “Or did you leave to pursue your own pleasures?”

“I’m a one-man kind of guy,” the man replied and Hanzo could feel his voice rumbling deep in his chest. His hand boldly came to rest on the small of Hanzo’s back. “You know that, sweet.”

Hanzo supposed that he had always liked his men bold. He liked them with a bit of fight in them.

He found himself wondering about this stranger.

A foolish thing to do, given that he was that—a stranger. Not to mention, he had only showed up for the Hindr listing that Emily or Lena had sent out. As soon as this was done, he’d want little to do with Hanzo.

Or perhaps he’d want something that Hanzo couldn’t give him—or would just want Hanzo for his money, his power, his influence. Kenneth was right in that sense—he  _ was _ influential.

Those were dangerous thoughts and he pulled away from them. Instead he indulged himself and played along. “Did you?” he asked. “Or did you chase after the first set of skirts that flashed in your direction?”

“If you believe that, then that tells me all I needed to know about what you think of me,” the man replied. “But tell me—did you believe the rumors? That I would break your heart like that?”

He was so earnest that even in this fictitious scenario Hanzo doubted. Staring into the man’s light brown eyes, Hanzo allowed his expression to soften slightly. “No,” he said, forcing himself to sound reluctant. “I suppose not. But I’ve moved on.” 

“Hanzo,” the man breathed and unable to help himself, Hanzo decided that he very much wanted to hear his name whispered that reverently again. “Have you?” Hanzo paused as if indecisive, curious to see where he would go. The man seemed to be waiting for the same. His brows rose and then he smiled. “Kiss me, then,” he said.

Very suddenly, Hanzo felt like he was in some kind of airport romance novel. 

All that was missing was rain making their clothes cling uncomfortably. He scoffed. 

“Do it,” the man dared, but anything else he was about to say was cut off when Hanzo did, standing on his toes to reach the man’s chapped lips. At first the man seemed too surprised to react, his eyes widening and crossing slightly as he tried to keep watching Hanzo. Then he responded, yanking Hanzo closer when he nipped at the man’s lips.

The man’s hands slid boldly around his hips, hovering at the waistband of Hanzo’s slacks as if too nervous to continue down the most logical path. Despite the hesitance in his hands his kiss was bold, aggressive, and full enough of teeth that Hanzo made up his mind. 

They parted only when the need for oxygen was too much and Hanzo eyed the man. There was a strange kind of innocence in the man’s face—he could tell that this wasn’t his first kiss, but perhaps this was his first with so much bite. 

It was something that Hanzo resolved to ask him later, after he took him somewhere private. 

“See?” the man said, sounding a little weak. His light brown eyes were now dark, nearly swallowed by his wide pupils as he stared at Hanzo. 

Adoringly, as if he hung the stars. 

Hungrily, as if he were a meal to be devoured. 

“Don’t seem like you’re over me,” the man managed to say, his lips curling into a wide, self-assured grin. “Not when you kiss me like that.” 

Hanzo looked up at him, narrowing his eyes. The man winked at him and Hanzo decided that he liked him—his pride, his self-assurance. He liked how the man seemed to think that after a single kiss—even one as rough as theirs had been—would make Hanzo swoon. 

He wanted to see if he could break the man. Not maliciously, of course, but he reminded Hanzo of a feral dog. He could certainly make this man come to heel. 

Assuming he was willing, of course. Hanzo looked around and found that Kenneth had left—a good thing, in his opinion.

He also found that Emily and Lena were both staring at him and the handsome stranger.

“Well then,” the stranger said, now awkward without the persona of a scorned ex to bolster him. “He cleared out fast.”

Hanzo looked back at him, found him blushing cutely. The fire was still there in his eyes, as was that powerful stare—no, he was certainly not  _ awkward _ , simply unsure. His desire had not waned—he just had no idea of what  _ Hanzo _ wanted and didn’t dare assume that he wanted the same thing that their previous personas had implied.

Lifting a hand, Hanzo touched his lips, feeling very much like the lover of a romance novel. He smirked when the man’s eyes flicked down to his lips, lingering there for a moment before lifting back to Hanzo’s eyes.

“Your name,” Hanzo said, watching the man’s eyes darken even more. His spine straightened at the hint of order in Hanzo’s voice. “What is it?”

“Jesse,” the man said. At that moment he looked very much like a cat about to pounce, or a hunting hawk. “Jesse McCree. And you are Hanzo Shimada.”

Hanzo hummed as Lena brought back his card and receipt; he thanked her and tucked them away absently. “You know who I am.”

Now Jesse looked almost embarrassed. “When I lost my arm,” he said with an awkward gesture to his prosthesis. “They talked about Shimada prosthetics. Said there were grants for it—and my dad received past models at discount because he was a vet. You could say I’m a bit of a…fan.” He seemed even more embarrassed right now, looking more like an awkward teenager than the cocksure man that had dared Hanzo to kiss him. 

Hanzo hummed thoughtfully. “And if I wanted to take you…somewhere private?” he asked. “And continue our conversation from earlier?”

For a moment, Hanzo was concerned that he was about to watch Jesse die as he began to choke.

“Would that be an issue?” Hanzo pressed.

Jesse swallowed, seemed to get himself together as his eyes darted in alarm around the small café. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be watching them anymore, and none of them were close enough to overhear their quiet conversation.

“What…sort’a conversation?” Jesse asked at last, that fire back in his eyes. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

Hanzo leaned close, put his hand boldly on Jesse’s hip. The younger man was trembling and Hanzo smiled as he stood on his toes to whisper in his ear, “I’d like to put you in a chair and ride you.” Jesse choked again but Hanzo wasn’t done. “I’d like you to bend me over the desk and—”

“Yeah,” Jesse interrupted quickly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Smiling, Hanzo leaned back. “Good,” he said. “Come with me.”

“When you say it like that,” Jesse said weakly. “I just might.”

Hanzo smirked and led the way out, being sure to thank Lena and Emily on the way.

* * *

Jesse stuck close to Hanzo as they walked back to the office, looking around with wide eyes. He kept a professional distance away which was another plus in Hanzo’s eyes, and another tick in the “might have to bring him back again” column.

Security tried to stop him but Hanzo waved them off and pretended not to notice them wink at Jesse. They, at least in this case, guessed correctly what was about to happen in his penthouse office; that didn’t mean that he would further feed the rumor mills by confirming it.

The doors to the elevator opened as he approached and Jesse looked around in surprise—there were no buttons on the ground floor.

“This is a private elevator,” Hanzo explained. “Very few have access to it and it is coded to the badges we wear.”

Jesse didn’t ask where Hanzo’s badge was, though he was clearly curious. It amused Hanzo enough to explain, “The chip in my badge is coded to what I choose to wear. Sometimes it’s a bracelet, sometimes it’s built into my prostheses.”

He smiled when Jesse whistled, impressed. The elevator began to climb and soon the doors opened.

Jesse whistled again. The doors opened into a large lobby with comfortable couches and decorative plants—his secretary had insisted and he had felt very much like a parent when he agreed on the condition that she took care of them.

(Not only did that terrible woman take care of them, but she named them all and spoke to them every day as if they were pets. It was too ridiculous for him to even be annoyed.)

She sat behind her desk, tapping away at the keyboard with her ridiculously long acrylic nails. Today they were a design she called “incendio”, red shading to orange to gold and she wore an outfit to match. Somehow, by some kind of dark sorcery, it didn’t look absolutely ridiculous on her.

“Olivia,” he said, using her full name just to watch her face pucker like had she sucked on a lemon. “Clear my schedule.”

Her disgusted look disappeared to be replaced by keen interest. She looked Jesse up and down, not bothering to hide it. “For how long?” she asked, turning back to Hanzo.

Hanzo looked at Jesse with a sly smile. “I’d say maybe an hour.”

His secretary snorted. “Oh,  _ please _ . If you’re smiling at him like  _ that _ you need at least two. Probably three.” Her nails clicked quickly at the keyboards and she looked at one of the five monitors spread around on her desk. Apparently, they were “rescued” from the IT department when they wanted to declare them obsolete—Hanzo had allowed her to keep them under the condition that she took care of them, like her damn plants.

You’d think that he’d have learned his lesson by then.

“You have no major meetings that can’t be pushed down on your underlings,” she said. “And I’ll forward your calls so you won’t be disturbed. Have fun,” she added wickedly. “I’m going to be listening to music so I can’t hear anything.”

Shaking his head at her sass—if she wasn’t so damn competent, he’d have fired her long ago and they both knew it—Hanzo walked through the open doors to his office. The doors slid shut behind Jesse and clicked to show that Olivia had locked them.

“These are some of my private workrooms,” Hanzo explained as he led Jesse through the hallway, lined with closed doors. “Some of these are meeting rooms for shareholders and investors. The one at the end is my office.”

“Your office?” Jesse squeaked.

Hanzo paused. “Or would you like a conference room?” he mused. Then he smiled slowly and stalked back to Jesse, standing on his toes as he placed both hands on his broad chest. Jesse was wonderfully solid and his hands were large and warm as they gripped his hips. “With the blinds up? Get a view of the city and let the city see you, and me…”

The hands on his hips tightened and Hanzo grinned. “ _ Fuck _ .”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Hanzo breathed and reached behind him to open the doors.

* * *

Jesse’s fingers were deliciously thick, spreading him wide open in preparation for his even thicker cock. The younger man had fallen silent, his breath coming in rough gasps. Jesse’s cock split him wide, gave him the most wonderful kind of stretch. He’d taken wider toys, but they were just that—toys. They didn’t have the warmth and give of flesh. 

And they didn’t  _ huff _ and grunt quietly behind him like Jesse did, didn’t fumble with big hands for his hips to yank him back. Jesse was otherwise quiet, didn’t fill the silence with inane prattle and feeble attempts at dirty talk. Didn’t try to tell Hanzo how sexy he was or how tight he felt, or a dozen other things. 

But he  _ did _ whine like a dog, hips rocking like an animal as he tried his best to shove himself ever deeper. Hanzo swore that he could almost feel him in his throat, could feel that ridiculous girth rearranging his insides with each rough buck. 

He grunted, tried to clench around that dick in surprise when the phone in the conference room rang. Behind him, Jesse sucked in a breath, though it wasn’t clear if it was in surprise at the ringing phone, in fear of being caught, or at the feeble attempt of Hanzo to try and clench around his girth. 

Seeing the number on it, Hanzo growled. His lazy indulgence dissipated and he looked back at Jesse who had slowed to a stop, was now biting his lip and looking unsure. 

“Well?” Hanzo mocked, hoping that Jesse didn’t notice how breathy he was, how wrecked he already sounded. “Are you going to stop?” 

He watched Jesse lick his lips nervously. His hips rocked as if of their own accord. “No?” he asked. 

“Good,” Hanzo hummed. “I need to take this.” Behind him, Jesse whined as he reached for the phone. “Be quiet or they’ll know what’s going on.” 

“Fuck,” he heard Jesse whisper as he picked up the phone. 

“This had better be good,” he said into the speaker. 

On the other end, his good friend Amélie huffed. “ _ I just got off the phone with your brother. _ ” 

Hanzo hummed as Jesse’s hips gave a tentative buck. He turned to look over his shoulder at Jesse, raising a brow. The younger man was biting his lip again and he swallowed hard beneath Hanzo’s stare. 

“You would think that he would know better than to call you at this point,” Hanzo said breezily, rocking his hips back on Jesse’s cock. Jesse squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers digging sharply into Hanzo’s hip; he would certainly have bruises on the side where Jesse’s prosthesis dug into his skin and he can’t find it in him to be bothered.

On the other end of the line, Amélie huffed. “ _ Somehow I doubt that he had called me. In fact, I am very certain that he was transferred to me. _ ” 

“Ah,” Hanzo said to disguise his gasp as Jesse swirled his hips, letting him feel the stretch, reminding him that he was there. 

As if he could forget. 

“ _ I knew it, _ ” Amélie said smugly. “ _ You only forward your calls to me when you’re having fun with a new toy. _ ” 

“You say that like Olivia wouldn’t forward my calls to you just to bother you.” 

Amélie clicked her tongue disapprovingly but didn’t deny it. “ _ Don’t forget we have Ladies’ and Olivia wine night tonight. _ ”

As Hanzo opened his mouth, Jesse bucked his hips and started a rough rhythm. It caught Hanzo by surprise and nearly startled him into moaning. 

Almost. 

Still, he knew that Jesse could see him clench his fist on the table as he fought back his pleased sounds. Amélie most likely could hear the fleshy slaps as Jesse fucked him harder over the table. Still, despite his failure to make Hanzo give himself away the way that Jesse clearly wanted him to, Hanzo liked his gall. 

Among other things. 

“We’ll have to push that back a bit.” 

Amélie laughed. “ _ That good? _ ” 

“That good,” Hanzo agreed. “Shall we meet at six, instead?” 

“ _ You’re paying. _ ” 

Hanzo snorted. Behind him, Jesse gasped loud enough that Amélie  _ definitely _ could hear him. “Done,” Hanzo said, smirking over his shoulder at Jesse. 

On the other end, Amélie laughed a little meanly. “ _ I’ll tell Satya and Olivia. Enjoy _ .” 

“I will,” Hanzo promised, but Amélie had already hung up. He slammed the phone back in the cradle. “I’m impressed at your restraint,” he told Jesse. “Now fuck me like you mean it.” 

Jesse whined like a dog, his hips coming to a jittery stop. “‘M gonna come,” he grunted between great, heaving breaths. 

Sighing, Hanzo rocked his hips back. “You’re young,” Hanzo told him. “I’m sure you have more than one round in you. And I’m sure you heard: we  _ have _ all day. Show me why I should keep you around.” 

As he had hoped, Jesse growled. He wished that he could see his face, could see what kind of wild grin he wore at the challenge. 

“Just you wait,” Jesse promised, despite his earlier claims to be close to coming. 

Hanzo rocked his hips back. “Why should I wait?” he asked. “I told you to fuck me, Jesse McCree. Or are you all talk?” 

Growling, Jesse reached down and lifted Hanzo’s leg, sinking impossibly deeper. He seemed to have lost some of his earlier shyness. It was endearing, was something that Hanzo would like to revisit in a bit but for now, he had other things on his mind. 

“You tell me,” Jesse challenged and began fucking him in earnest. 

**Author's Note:**

> For more about monthly projects I do, feel free to visit me on Twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus). 
> 
> I've been pretty quiet this month because I've been busy. Between work, Kinktober, and work to be done for a vacation I have coming up, everything's been crazy. I also have to work on two large projects and...well, I have a lot coming up. 
> 
> In any event, I hope you enjoyed this. 
> 
> ~DC


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